


The Morning After

by Anna_Blossom



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bromance, Drinking, Gen, Genji is an ass, Hanzo is an ass, Humor, McCree just wants to know what happened, Morning After (not really), Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 08:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7215229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Blossom/pseuds/Anna_Blossom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, uh,” McCree started, breaking the silence, “mind tellin’ me what happened last night?”</p><p>(the one where McCree wants to know what happened and Hanzo won't tell him)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After

McCree blearily opened his eyes, still half-asleep. Yawning, he sat up, fragments of a dream floating around his mind. He absentmindedly scratched his chin, slowly trying to remember when he put up a sword on the wall. He didn’t recall falling off of the bed, either, so why was he sleeping on the floor? He frowned before shrugging to himself.

McCree stretched, deciding it was too early to worry about such things. But when he heard a shower turning off, he froze mid-stretch.

Realization struck him like lightning, all traces of sleep leaving his body. The sword was there because it wasn’t his room. He didn’t sleep on the floor, he was on a futon. Brown eyes scanned the room, spotting a familiar bow propped up against the wall.

_Well, shit._

He was in Hanzo’s room. Shit, what was he doing in _Hanzo’s_ room? McCree closed his eyes and mentally calmed himself down and try to think back to the night before. His head throbbed slightly and the lights weren’t helping. A hangover. He was drinking then. _Fuck_.

His eyes snapped open, horror crossing his face. _Hell, did they—_

A quick look under the blank and he slumped in relief. He wasn’t naked. Well, not completely. He lost his shirt and his belt somewhere, but he was still wearing pants. That means that they didn’t do the deed. _Or you didn’t get to do the deed_ , a small voice whispered in his head, and McCree told it to fuck off.

McCree groaned, flopping down on the futon. _What the fuck did I do last night?_

“McCree?”

The gunslinger jolted at the sound, immediately sitting up and turning to face the intruder, a hand instinctively reaching for his Peacekeeper. Which wasn’t there, he realized with a grimace.

“I put your things are on top of the drawer over there,” Hanzo gestured to the other side of the room, not at all fazed by McCree’s reaction. “You can take a shower now, if you’d like,” he added.

The man was wearing nothing but a fluffy towel around his waist, a fact that did not go unnoticed by McCree, who didn’t even realize he was staring. His gaze traveled up Hanzo’s body, from his metal legs to his sculpted torso to his broad shoulders.

The archer cleared his throat loudly, causing McCree to blink.

“You’re staring,” Hanzo stated simply, amusement evident in his voice.

“Oh,” McCree looked away, feeling his face heat up. “I, um, right. I think I’ll just get dressed,” he got up from the futon and walked towards the drawer, making it a point to not look at the other man, a million questions flying around his head.

 _Why am I here? What happened last night? Did we_ fuck _?_

He cringed at the last one. He was _definitely_ not going to ask that. If they _did_ though, McCree was going to castrate Reinhardt and Torbjörn. _Just one more drink my ass._

Silence filled the room as they got dressed. McCree has had his fair share of awkward morning afters, but this one has got to be the worst. He doesn’t even know if they _did_ anything. McCree peeked at Hanzo from over his shoulder, trying to read the man.

Hanzo wasn’t acting like they did anything. But then again, the man was way too comfortable for someone who just had another man in his bed. Which meant that he most probably _did_ spend the night in this room with _Hanzo_. Unless of course the other man slept elsewhere. But it’s still possible that _something_ happened.

He was getting nowhere with this. If McCree wanted to know what happened, he had to ask Hanzo directly. He took a breath, steeling himself for the potential embarrassment, and then turned to face the smaller man, who was now wearing a simple black yukata and drying his hair with the towel.

“So, uh,” McCree started, breaking the silence, “mind tellin’ me what happened last night?”

Hanzo paused in his movements. He hummed thoughtfully, before putting down the towel and turning to meet McCree’s eyes with an unreadable gaze.

“You do not remember,” he replied. It was more of a statement than a question.

“No, not really,” McCree laughed sheepishly, a hand rubbing the back of his head.

“I see,” Hanzo replied slowly, a pensive look on his face. McCree watched him, shifting uncomfortably under Hanzo’s stare. There was a long moment of silence before Hanzo spoke again.

“That is… disappointing.”

McCree’s eyes widened, jaw going slack at the implications of that statement. _Wait, what?_

“Although I should have expected it. You were quite inebriated last night,” Hanzo continued nonchalantly, shrugging. “I suppose it doesn’t matter if you remember it now.”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on there!”

“Yes?” Hanzo asked, slightly cocking his head sideways.

“What exactly _happened_ last night?” McCree all but yelled, slowly losing his cool.

“I told you, it’s not important,” Hanzo replied dismissively.

“Did we, you know, _do_ anything?!”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow at him. “A lot of us did many things last night.”

“No! I meant the two of us specifically,” McCree said, exasperation evident in his tone. “Did we… _do_ it?”

“You have to be specific, McCree, about what ‘it’ is,” Hanzo intoned coolly, although the gunslinger swore he saw amusement flicker in the man’s eyes.

“You know,” McCree said, more than a little bit flustered by their conversation, “a roll in the sack?”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“The horizontal tango?”

“McCree, I’m afraid I still haven’t quite gotten used to American slang. I would appreciate it if you just state whatever you have to say plainly,” the archer replied, crossing his arms. McCree’s face turned redder, embarrassed and frustrated by the situation in equal parts. For some reason, he had the strangest feeling that Hanzo was just messing with him.

McCree took a breath, ignoring that feeling for now. Just ask him directly. Go straight to the point. He cleared his throat.

“What I’m tryin’ to say is, last night, did we have se—“

“Brother, it is time for breakfast,” a robotic voice interrupted, along with the sound of an opening door. McCree froze in place, while Hanzo merely looked at the intruder with a raised brow. The cyborg tilted his head sideways, taking in the scene before him.

“Ah, I see,” Genji said, nodding to himself before turning to the gunslinger. “Good morning, McCree. Breakfast is ready.”

“Genji, what have I told you about knocking?” Hanzo reprimanded.

“I apologize, brother. I did not know I was interrupting the two of you,” Genji replied, and McCree balked.

“Whoa there! It’s not like what you’re thinkin’, pardner!” He said, waving his arms around him.

“Not like what? You two were just talking, were you not?” Genji asked, tilting his head again, and McCree was _sure_ that Genji was messing with him.

“No— I mean yes!”

“Then what am I misunderstanding?”

“Genji,” Hanzo said, interrupting their exchange. “Did you come here just to tell us that breakfast is ready?”

“Well, no, I came here to tell _you_ breakfast is ready. I did not know McCree was here as well,” Genji answered, tone just the slightest bit amused and McCree shot him a look. “Speaking of which, why _is_ he in your room, brother?”

“Stop teasing him, Genji. You know exactly why,” Hanzo replied before McCree could get a word out, “you were there.”

McCree froze at that statement, mind going blank. _What. The. Fuck._

“I was, wasn’t I?” Genji laughed while Hanzo just chuckled softly, the sounds reverberating inside McCree’s skull. “But we really must hurry if we want to eat breakfast on time.”

“Let us go, then,” Hanzo said, briskly walking out of the room, “It is Tracer’s turn to make breakfast, yes?”

“Oh, yes. Her pancakes are simply delightful,” Genji replied, following after his brother. “We must hurry before none are left. Oh, and McCree?”

McCree slowly turned his head to face the cyborg, who had ducked his head back into the room.

“Last night was very enjoyable,” Genji said and if it weren’t for his mask, McCree would’ve seen the shit-eating grin on the man’s face. “Talk to you later,” he added, before hurrying after his brother and continuing their conversation about just how delightful Tracer’s pancakes were, their voices growing softer as they walked further away from the room where McCree remained frozen in horror, as still as a statue.

* * *

 

Genji glanced back at the open door leading to Hanzo’s room, before chuckling. “You are cruel, brother, teasing him so.”

“I was not the one who dealt the final blow, Genji,” Hanzo replied, not bothering to hide his smirk. Genji laughed heartily at that.

“I think we should tell him what really happened soon though,” the younger Shimada mused as they turned a corner, “before he starts avoiding us.”

“Later. Let him suffer a little longer,” Hanzo replied. “That is what he gets for vomiting all over my sheets after mistaking my room for his. I was the one who had to clean him up. Easier said than done, especially since he was passed out.”

“And I had to wash his clothes and the sheets. Very enjoyable indeed,” Genji added.

“I even had to sleep in your room for the night,” Hanzo sighed. “Why do you not have a shower in your room though?”

“Cyborg.”

“I see,” Hanzo replied, feeling some of the guilt return. Genji noticed and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, making Hanzo face him.

“Do not worry about it, brother. I’ve forgiven you,” Genji said quietly, voice warm and kind.

Hanzo laughed softly, sadly, not meeting his brother’s eyes. “I still do not believe I deserve your forgiveness.”

“Everyone deserves a second chance.”

Hanzo looked at his younger brother silently for a moment, before giving another soft laugh, this time grateful and full of relief. “Thank you, Genji,” Hanzo said, a small smile on his lips.

Genji squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, before lifting his hand and clapping Hanzo’s back. “Now come, brother. I was not kidding about the pancakes.”

**Author's Note:**

> All aboard the McHanzo trashcan (can we all fit though? don't we need a garbage truck by now? I mean, look at all the McHanzo trash hanging around in Tumblr)
> 
> Anyway, hope you liked it. Constructive criticism would be appreciated as always :)


End file.
